


Five Times Jack Didn’t Ask Bitty Out (And One Time He Did)

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Awkward Jack, Fluff, M/M, The Haus, pining Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a matter of six simple words: Do you want to get coffee?</p>
<p>Bone-crushing hits he can handle. Pucks flying at his head and the chaos of swinging sticks? No big deal. Why then does the prospect of asking one question to the most non-threatening being Jack has ever encountered in his entire life have him pacing in his room?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jack Didn’t Ask Bitty Out (And One Time He Did)

It’s a matter of six simple words. _Do you want to get coffee?_

Bone-crushing hits he can handle. Pucks flying at his head and the chaos of swinging sticks? No big deal. Why then does the prospect of asking one question to the most non-threatening being Jack has ever encountered in his entire life have him pacing in his room?

He pivots near the head of his bed and walks back toward the open door listening for Bitty’s unmistakable bounding tread on the stairs. From the warm scent of cinnamon and bubbling fruit filling the Haus and the recent sound of the oven timer, he’s sure Bitty will be back up soon.  

When he at last hears Bitty approaching, he freezes, suddenly aware of the way he’s standing stiffly in the middle of the room. He sits quickly on the bed before scrambling up again and arranging himself in his desk chair.

“Bittle,” he calls and it’s all wrong already. His voice is too loud, too captain-like.

Bitty appears in his doorway, eyes wide. “Yes, Jack?”

“Do you want coffee?” Well, that was…almost all the words.

Bitty blinks a few times before answering. “The pie is cooling and then I was going to make a fresh pot so—“ he gasps and holds up a hand. “I forgot to label the crème fraiche.” There’s a system in place for Bitty’s ingredients in the Haus fridge. Anything he needs for baking gets ERB neatly written on it in with the red Sharpie that lives in the small bin magnetized to the refrigerator door. Anything unmarked or with the initials crossed out is up for grabs. “If I don’t label it, Shitty uses it in his tuna salad. His _tuna salad_ , Jack.” Bitty literally shudders at the thought and then he’s gone again, leaving Jack exactly where he started.

***

Calling Bitty to his room was the mistake, Jack decides, so the next time he plans a chance meeting in the hall. Sometimes when Shitty is monopolizing their bathroom, Jack will duck into the other one so using that as a plausible explanation, he grabs his toothbrush and toothpaste and kills time wandering around his room waiting for Bitty to emerge from his. (Hopefully Bitty doesn't know that Shitty isn't even currently home.)

He’s standing with his ear to the door when he hears the creak of the hinge across the hall. Taking a deep, practiced breath, he opens his own door but by then the hall is empty again and the bathroom door is closed. So he stands half in and half out of his room awkwardly shifting his weight until Bitty re-appears.

He smiles as Jack approaches and Jack needlessly waves his toothbrush at him, as if he needs an excuse for why he’s in the hall. Bitty is getting closer and closer and Jack is trying to decide if opening with “Hey” will sound too forced-casual, when there are shouts and a clattering of footsteps down from the attic.

“Laura Ingalls,” Ransom says.

Jack feels a pain begin behind his left eye.

“Real person, correct?” Holster demands.

They're looking to Jack but it's Bitty who nods. “Yes, of course.”

“Actual pioneer girl,” Ransom says and Bitty nods again.

“Lived on the prairie with sunbonnets and butter-churning and all that shit,” Holster says.

“Is there a point?” Jack asks, clenching his teeth as well as his toothbrush.

“If she was a real person doing real things, then why are her books in the fiction section?” Ransom crosses his arms smugly over his chest while Holster looks searchingly between Jack and Bitty.

Bitty opens his mouth to answer, but then his forehead creases and he closes it again.

Jack sighs. “The books are a fictionalized account of real events.” He watches Ransom squint as he processes this. “Did you think there was a far-reaching Laura Ingalls conspiracy in place?”

Ransom and Holster share a brief, guilty look before a string of denials and justifications stream from their mouths in an incomprehensible muddle.

Laughing, Bitty disappears down the steps in the midst of it.

 *** 

These coincidental meetings aren’t working. Too much left to chance. Clearly,  Jack needs to take the bull by the horns. Just get up, walk across the hall, knock on Bitty’s door, and ask him out for coffee.

For once, the Haus is relatively quiet. It’s close enough to midterms that people are (mostly) actually studying, buckling down as they only do when there’s no time left for procrastinating. Bitty has been shut in his room since shortly after dinner and even if he doesn’t want to go take a break now, it’ll be something for them both to look forward to after exams.

Jack stands and crosses his room, moving confidently with his head held high and shoulders back. He pulls his door open with all the authority that Jack Laurent Zimmermann possesses and strides the short distance across the hall that separates his room from Bitty’s. There he stops, one hand poised to knock.

What they have now is so easy. Bitty brings a light to Jack’s days that has long been missing. He’s everything Jack isn’t: open and joyous, finding the beauty and good in everything he sees. There’s a warmth that floods through Jack when he thinks of the way Bitty teases him, turning that bright smile on him as he sees through his gruff exterior.

But that warmth drains away as the all too familiar _what if_ part of his brain kicks in. What if Bitty doesn’t think of him like that. What if Bitty doesn’t see him as more than a friend. What on earth would make him ever think he’s Bitty’s type? What if this one simple question makes everything awkward and uncomfortable between them? Jack doesn’t think he could handle strained silences taking the place of lighthearted companionship.

Better not to risk it.

He retreats to his own room, closing the door quietly behind him.

*** 

“We’ve done it,” Ransom says as he and Holster burst into the room. They stop and perform an elaborate high-five.

“Done what?” Chowder asks, even as he commits the high-five routine to memory.

“Found a guy for Bitty!”  

Bitty looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his phone in his hand. Jack, safely ensconced at the opposite end of the couch, looks up from his computer.

“How do you feel about baseball players?” Without waiting for a response, Ransom adds, “We found one who’s a _switch-hitter_.” He raises his eyebrows and mimes swinging a baseball bat.

“Oh Lord,” Bitty says, but he’s smiling and, if Jack isn’t mistaken, slightly flushed.

Finding a guy for Bitty isn’t anywhere close to being a new pastime for residents of the Haus. But this is the first time Jack’s been present for it since he’s realized that maybe this isn’t a game he wants to play.

From the arm of the couch Shitty nudges Jack. “Pull up the baseball team page so we can have a look.”

Jack looks over at Bitty who shrugs his okay, but Jack hesitates with his fingers hovering over the keyboard long enough that Shitty pulls it out of his hands and does it himself. They all crowd around as the site loads, Bitty pressing in against Jack’s other side to take a good look.

Ran directs Shitty to scroll through the pics until they find the guy in question. He's standing in profile, squinting into the sun with a bat slung over his shoulder. “What do you think, Bitty? I mean nobody’s gonna rival our good Captain’s ass, but he’s doing those baseball pants proud.”

Bitty makes a noncommittal sound, but keeps his eyes on the screen, Jack notices.

Jack grabs his laptop back and exits out of the baseball photo. “I have actual work to do,” he says in a tone that shuts down the laughing and chattering. As Bitty moves away from him, Jack re-opens his study guide and glares at it until the room clears, leaving only Shitty. Jack can feel Shitty’s eyes on him but he pretends to be absorbed in whatever’s on his screen.

Finally, Shitty cuffs him on the back of the head. “You’re an idiot” he says, his tone strangely gentle, before getting up and leaving Jack by himself.

*** 

They both have a paper due for Women, Food, and American Culture which makes for the perfect opening, really. Bitty is sitting in his desk chair with his feet propped up on his bed and Beyonce (probably?) blasting when Jack stands in his doorway.

Bitty leans over to pause the music and starts to talk before Jack can even open his mouth. “Jack, have you started this paper yet? I swear, my mind goes blank every time I open the assignment. ‘How canned food changed American eating?’ I’d rather bake with a pre-made pie crust that write about that. Do you want to work on it together? Maybe we could brainstorm something.”

All Jack can do is nod.

“Go get your stuff and maybe we can get this done before I’m forced to fling myself into the pond.”

Jack stands and stares. With Bitty in the chair, the only place for Jack is on his bed and even though Jack (and the rest of the team) are forever piling onto each other’s beds, suddenly Jack can’t even conceive of sitting there innocently on the edge to do homework. It’s Bitty’s _bed_. Where he _sleeps_. Wearing God knows what. Not that Jack has ever thought about that. Much. Jack’s totally never wondered if he sleeps on his back or his stomach. Or if he snores or drools or if his hair falls onto his face and Oh God he’s still standing motionless in the doorway with Bitty looking at him.

“Let’s go out,” he says and no he is not blushing. He’s Jack Zimmermann.

Bitty promptly stands and starts putting things into his backpack. “You’re right. We’ll get more done at the library.”

 *** 

After two hours at the library Jack is feeling like the most brilliant Bitty strategist ever. They’re sitting close together at a table, closer than they ever would have if they’d stayed in Bitty’s room, so they can discuss their work without disturbing other people. Jack pretends not to notice each time their legs bump under the table or when Bitty leans so far into his space that Jack can smell his shampoo.

Despite the multitude of factors disrupting Jack's focus, they’re making good progress on the assignment and it’s enough to buoy Jack’s confidence.

“We should do this more often,” he ventures.

Bitty nods without looking up from his computer screen. “Fewer distractions.”

“No, I mean just me and you.”

This gets him Bitty’s full attention. He looks at Jack uncertainly. “Just me and you?”

It’s Jack’s turn to nod. “I mean…if you want to.”

Bitty turns toward him, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he rests his chin in his hand. “Jack Zimmermann, are you asking me out?”

Jack forces himself not to look away. “Would you say yes if I were?”

Bitty’s smile widens as he slams his laptop closed. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to [jojodacrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jojodacrow) both for pulling me into this fandom and beta reading this fic!


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